


Germany/Italy - Military/Discipline Kink

by IvanBraginsky



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bondage, Boot polishing, Crying, Dom!Germany, Friendship, Germany's Uniform, Knife Play, M/M, Pasta!, Sub!Italy, White Flag Of Surrender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvanBraginsky/pseuds/IvanBraginsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Italy will obey Germany. Oh yes, he will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Germany/Italy - Military/Discipline Kink

"I did not ask if you wanted to, I said move, now! Italy!" Came Germany's voice, no less infuriated than he felt as he set the pace for Italy's training as they ran along the perimeter of the base. Exhaling puffs of breath in the crisp morning air, Germany ran along side the other man who was busy working himself into hysterics.

"Stop that! What did I tell you about sniveling as if you are one of the Baltic States? Do you want other nations to hear how weak you are? Pull yourself together!" The blue eyed instructor continued as they reached the cleared patch of ground where their training would take place.

"But Germany! I'm so sleepy! Can't we go back to sleep? Just one more hour, please!" Came Italy's complaining voice as they stopped and he watched his struggling underling rest his hands against his knees and pant desperately as if the brief jog from his quarters was some kind of marathon mile. Of course, he would not have had to have run that distance, had he woken up on time and did not have to be dragged away from what only could be described as the disaster he had made of the units kitchen that morning where he had attempted to make pasta for breakfast.

As he looked down upon his ally, he could not help but sigh, knowing that the rest of the day would be filled with nothing but more whining and pitiful attempts by the other nation to weasel out of this days training unless he put his boot down early.

Looking sharply at Italy, he had no intentions of letting him get away with such behavior. "That is unacceptable! If I have to go und fetch you again, I will cut your tomato rations again, do you understand?" He said with some measure of satisfaction as the other nation shook his head quietly in understanding. "Das Gut, now, just so you know I am seriously not going to tolerate any more nonsense, you will drop und give me zwanzig push ups."

"Einz!..., Zwei!..., Drei!" Germany began to count as his left leg rose steadily up and down with no effort on his part, counting further upward as the rugged sole of his boot rested firmly between the shoulder blades of Italy as the shorter nation continued with his now mandatory push-ups. He noted that it did not take long for the other nation to finish, having become somewhat accustomed to what had unfortunately become another part of his morning routine and with that, he lifted his boot from Italy's back.

"Now, go und find da sponge und bucket. You will be cleaning up the sauce und other mess you made earlier. You are dismissed until later when you have finished cleaning up in order to continue your training for the day!" Germany uncrossed his arms and watched as Italy slinked away towards his barracks, silently hoping that Italy would not just go off and sleep somewhere rather than doing what he was supposed to be doing.

He really did not like being forced to become ever more inventive with his methods of discipline with the other nation, but his behavior was becoming increasingly unacceptable. He could not promise that he would always be there to protect Italy and that thought worried him more than anything that Italy had ever done wrong. The thought of what another powerful nation would be wiling to do to Italy in order to gain his grandfather's inheritance were the things of his own nightmares. During the times he wondered if he were being too hard on Italy, such horrific thoughts would spring forth to the front of his mind like clockwork, as if to reassure him that he was doing the right by Italy, to make him stronger for the day when he might not be there to save him in time. No, he was not being too hard on Italy, he reassured himself, he was only doing what was best for him.

With that, he dismissed himself too, hopeful that the afternoons exercise would be a fresh start and that maybe, just maybe, Italy could be straightened out.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Italy!" Germany yelled in a rare moment of sheer frustration with his subordinate nation.

It had been hard enough to retain his composure when he had gone to check up on Italy before the commencement of that afternoons training, only to find that Italy had in fact completely ignored his orders to clean up his mess, but now, Italy had taken it upon himself to steal from his Superiors during his lunch break, having squirreled away into the food reserves of his boss in order to make out like a bandit with all of the ingredients he needed to make a new batch of pasta in his own private kitchen, leaving it in the same sorry shambles he had left his own earlier in the day.

Storming towards Italy, whom he found leaning up against the brick wall of the fort, with a literal plate of guilt in hand, slurping up the last noodle in a hurry as he closed in.

"Hi Germany!" Italy said, bright and cheerful, as if he might be fooled into thinking that someone other than the unkempt pasta lover was responsible for the disaster back in his quarters.

"Quiet!" He yelled as he abruptly thrust his gloved palms against the cool and shaded wall behind either side of Italy's head as he glowered down upon him, causing the smaller nation to shrink back in fear.

"Germany, I'm sorry! I'll clean it up, I promise!" He listened to Italy quickly try to explain, before he leaned in, invading the brunette's personal space, causing him to cry out in fear as he watched the beads of sweat begin to visibly form on the terrified nation's face.

Lowering the lids over his blue eyes, he was relieved when Italy finally obeyed his command to be quiet as he glanced down to their side to see the formerly clean white plate now resting on the ground beside them, the frightened nation having dropped it out of fear. Facing back towards the man in question, Germany exhaled and quickly swiped his tongue over his bottom lip to moisten it, considering his next words carefully. "Italy," The name escaping as a low, threatening growl. "You will do as I tell you."

With that Germany bent down to retrieve the plate before walking off, leaving a relieved, Italy behind, fork in hand.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slipping into his pajamas and into bed, Germany lay awake in the cool darkness of his bunker, pondering over the events of the day. Italy was growing impossible to live with, but he knew that he would never allow him out of his sight, not until he was ready to defend himself.

That evening he had watched Italy from a chair at his kitchen table, seeing him on his hands and knees, scrubbing away at the hardened pasta sauce on every possible surface of his kitchen, as he had rushed over to clean up his mess as he had promised to do so adamantly earlier, but that was besides the point. If Italy would not do as he was commanded without question the first time, it may well cost him his life on the battlefield and that was unacceptable, not just for Italy, but for him as his superior. Failure to train his subordinate would be seen by all, including himself, as a direct result as his failure to properly instruct him.

This would not be allowed to continue.

As he had sat down to his after dinner coffee that evening, he had watched as the disheveled nation whistled and scoured away at tiled floors, countertops and pans as he had begun to contemplate the situation at hand.

If it had been a pretty lady that he wanted to impress asking him to do something, it would have been done and done right in no time at all. When he asked him to do something, it was nothing but headache after headache. Why? Why was it that Italy continued to defy him at every turn? No matter how kindly he asked or how threateningly for that matter, most of the time it required him to physically push Italy into a state of utter exhaustion before he would surrender to his command and do as he was told.

That was it, wasn't it?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That morning, Germany got up bright and early. Searching through the rack of hanging clothes in his closet, he found the crisp backup uniform he always kept incase something happened to his usual one. Beginning to dress himself, he also fished out a pair of brand new black boots, shinning them ever just so until they gleamed in the adequate light of his room. Putting them on and checking himself over in the mirror he kept hanging over the door, he swiped a comb from atop his dresser and slicked his hair back, before returning the comb and swapping it out for some cologne, adding a touch before it too found itself returned to his dresser. Rummaging through his top drawer, he pulled out a silk black tie, a matching pair of leather gloves and a pack of candiezucker, tucking the last item in his upper breast pocket before properly securing his tie and placing on his gloves. He gave himself one final glance over before grabbing his cap and securing it on lightly before walking out of his room to begin the day.

It was early, so early that Italy was certain to still be fast asleep. As Germany entered Italy's barracks, he began to look around, noticing the usual substandard care that Italy gave to his barracks. Trailing a finger across the top of Italy's nightstand, Germany tsked quietly to himself as he ground the fine layer of dust between his gloved thumb and pointer fingers before continuing his search. He looked over to watch Italy as he slept, snoring in a fashion that was both mocking and endearing at the same time as he made his way to the foot of Italy's bunk where his trunk was kept. Quietly, he retrieved the duplicate key he kept as his superior officer and eased open the trunk to find the contraband he had suspected him of harboring. Reaching into the trunk, he took the plain white cloth and stuffed it into his right pocket for later, before closing and relocking the trunk and exiting the room.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Guten morgen." Germany said, glancing down at his clipboard as Italy came running up late for roll call as usual.

"Hey, Germany! You sure do look fancy this morning, does this mean we won't be having training today?" He heard Italy ask as he watched him smile obliviously upward at him while he was marking him present.

"Today, there will be a new training exercise." Germany chirped brightly as he tucked the clipboard under one arm and headed inside the fort, a smirk dancing over his figures as he heard Italy following along behind him as they walk down one long and shaded corridor after the other.

"So, what are we going to be doing today, Germany?" Italy asked as they approached the last door in one of the interior corridors. "If you want, I can teach you how to cook pizza using a field pocket stove!"

"Maybe some other time, Italy." The blond man said as he unlocked and held open the door for his shorter student, resting a hand on his shoulder as he passed through the doorway. "But do not worry, I have a feeling you are going to excel at today's task, ya?" He reassured him as he ushered him inside the room, following in behind him.

"Uh, Mr. Germany, Sir, not that I'm saying you led us to the wrong place, but are we in the right room? There's only one chair and nothing else in here, I'll go grab another chair and maybe some pasta so we can..."

CLICK.

"Have a seat." Germany said as he checked to be sure that the door was locked before slipping the key inside his right back pocket and walking over towards his subordinate with a gleam in his eyes that set off bells of panic in the slate blue clad soldier's head.

"I have a better idea, why don't we go outside and play football! It's such a nice day and..."

"I said, sit." Germany repeated softly as the smaller nation took his seat in the chair.

"Today's lesson," He continued as he moved to stand before his subject, taking note of his fidgeting. "ist how to resist interrogation."

"This ist something that I know you will be, quite, good at." He said as he crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side and glanced down at Italy.

Raising a pointed gloved hand against his cheek, he smiled before shaking that same finger down at his captive in an amused fashion. "You know, Italy," Germany began as he walked behind the chair as Italy tried to turn his head to follow him around the room. "Eyes forward." Germany demanded sharply as he leaned over and rested his palms on the back of Italy's shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles in his jacket as he moved his hands half way down his arms, giving them a stiff pat that caused the now panicked man to jolt in his seat. Inhaling the scent of Italy's hair as he ghosted closer towards the man's left ear and whispered wickedly. "You are better than anyone I know when it comes to resistance. You resist. You resist your duties and you resist, ME."

"What do you mean I resist you? I don't resist you, Germany. I mean just because I..."

SWISH.

"You do not resist me, ya?" Germany said as he swirled the white fabric in front of his nervous underling, quickly wrapping an end in each gloved fist and pulling it back across Italy's openly exposed throat, causing him to twist in his panic, yet unable to fight off Germany's assault. "Then what do you call this, Italy?"

Fisting the material in one hand and using the other to grab a fist full of Italy's hair, using it to tug his head backward, Germany looked coldly down into panic stricken eyes of gold, teaming with tears as he desperately squirmed under the German's control. "I call this resistance! I told you to get rid of this damn white flag material and yet there it was this morning in your trunk!"

Not wanting to seriously harm the Italian, he relaxed his grasp on the material, letting him catch his breath, causing Italy to gasp desperately for air, before releasing his pull on his hair as well, pushing his head forward sharply to emphasize his control of the situation at hand. "Do you not understand what I am trying to do here?"

"I understand that you are trying to kill me! Let me out of here!" Italy yelled as Germany saw him manage to slip out of and escape the white fabric prison to made a run for the door. "Help! Help me! Germany is trying to kill me!" He heard him continue as he watched him pound helplessly against the secured door, desperate for someone to rescue him.

Annoyed, Germany crossed the room to where the Italian now sat, knees hugged against his chest in fear as he saw him approach.

"Scream as loud as you want, it makes no difference to me." He began as he grabbed hold of a slender wrist and sent the smaller man flying across the floor. Moving quickly, he straddled his writhing captive and it wasn't long until he had his wrists tied behind his back with his own white flag material and flipped over onto his back, defenseless.

"Germany, please! Stop it! You're scaring me!" Italy cried openly beneath Germany, resulting in a certain effect upon the larger man.

"Am I? No more than you have been scaring me." At that, Germany looked down to see that Italy had stopped and was now paying attention to him, a confused look upon his face.

"Me scaring you? So you are just messing around with me!" Italy said as he laughed a nervous laugh, as much as he could anyway, given the German's weight resting upon him. "That would be impossible! I can't..."

"Mmphm..."

The gloved hand over the Italian's mouth muffled any further resistance as he leaned down and looked into his eyes before finishing. "You are scaring me right now, Italy. What if I were some other nation? What if Russia walked through that door right now, ready to bash in your pretty little head with a lead pipe and I was not here to protect you? What would you do then? Hmm?" Germany inquired as he lowered his hands and sent buttons scattering in all directions around the room as he ripped open Italy's shirt, exposing him and bringing his bare chest into view.

"What would you do if I were Russia right now?! Tell me!" Germany growled with an exasperated exhalation as he looked contemptuously downward at his source of torment as he ripped the offensive blue tie down and away, throwing it aside briskly. His hands went to work on his captive's belt, making quick work of it before popping open the button of his pants and tugging them downward, a task made easier by the man's wiggling beneath him in a pathetic bid to escape his superior officer.

"Germany!" He heard the man beneath him cry. "Germany, why are you doing this to me! We're friends aren't we?"

"Yes, we are and that ist precisely why I am doing this with you." Germany emphasized as he rolled the other man over, tugging his heart printed boxers down as he did so.

"Ah!" Came Italy's cry and Germany landed his first firm, gloved, smack across the other man's backside.

"Tell me! What would you do?!" Germany said as he repeated his previous action, demanding an answer. "Tell me now!"

"I don't know!" Italy cried honestly. "Please, let me go!"

"Nein!" Germany replied as he landed a further salvo of blows upon Italy's backside, inwardly cringing as Italy's sobs reached his ears. "I'm doing this because I have to, not because I want to. Don't you understand? Do you know what would happen if we were attacked und you were captured or worse because of my failure to teach you to do what I tell you to do right now? Do you think I like having to treat you like this?"

Watching as Italy shook his head, his verbal reply rendered incoherent by sobs and tears, Germany moved to divest Italy of his boots and remaining lower garments before standing up and dragging his captive onto his knees.

Dissatisfied, Germany bent down and unsheathed a blade tucked away inside on of his own gleaming boots, tilting it as he held it up to the light, before looking down at his subordinate, watching him shiver with... could that be anticipation?"

Towering over the pasta loving pest, he crouched down so that they were face to face, twirling the blade in front of him, watching as tearful, glistening golden orbs followed its every motion. Germany inhaled sharply as the blade came to rest upon Italy's cheek and traversed upwards, trailing over delicate, unblemished flesh as he harvested ripe tears that had come trickling with an audible whimper to accompany it's journey downward and onto his blade.

After a moments pause, Germany brought the blade to his lips with much care and darted his tongue to gently lap away at the salty liquid he had so preciously collected there, his eyes fixed on Italy, gauging his reaction as he savored his tears, the condensed form of their anxieties.

"You know something, Italy," Germany began as he ran the blade between his gloves to clean it, eyes and smile still on Italy as he did so. "I believe you enjoy it when I discipline you."

Satisfied, that the blade was clean, he grabbed at the back of Italy's collar and slipped the blade under, cutting it off of him and sweeping away the shredded black remains with his boot, sending them in all directions across the increasingly littered floor.

Replacing his blade, he grabbed another fistful of his detainee's hair, and dragged him on his knees until he had him backed up against the nearest wall.

"Ah! Germany, it's cold!" He heard Italy complain as he pushed his back against the smooth, cool surface.

At that, he let out a dark laugh. "You are doing wunderbar, Italy! Ignoring the interrogation at hand und frustrating your interrogator." Tightening his grip on the other man's head, he slammed his head back against the wall, just enough to bring fresh tears to his eyes as he used his free hand to work his belt free and undo the button and zipper on his trousers before releasing himself from the confines of his boxers.

Taking stock of Italy's reaction as he watched him stare at the newly exposed part of his body, he smiled, satisfied with his subject.

"I know exactly what you would do if Russia came barreling through that door right this second, you would do just what you are doing right now, which ist cry, cower und yet somehow still pretend to resist him until he used you senselessly because that seems to be the only way you know how surrender to anyone, Italy." Germany said as he stroked a gloved finger across Italy's cheek as he loomed over him. "You never give in to my commands until I push you to physical exhaustion or threaten to take away your pleasures, but lately those threats have not been enough, have they, ya?"

Watching as Italy nodded quietly in acknowledgement, Germany knew what he had to do in order to help his Italian friend, who if appearances gave any indication, was becoming increasingly turned on by the current setting. "Since that ist the only way you learn, then so be it, I am going to use you und then I am going to fuck you, resist me if you can."

At that, the other nation tried to struggle to his feet, but was quickly returned to his kneeling position, followed by a light slap across his face as Germany insisted on following up on his latest threat. "Here," He began by taking his member in hand and pressing it up against Italy's mouth. Upon the other nation's refusal, he tugged furiously upon his hair, causing him to open his mouth with the resulting cry and Germany seized the opportunity to shove himself inside.

He felt guilty at having to treat Italy this way, but if the alternative was letting some other nation use him, who would surely not be doing this because they actually cared for him, then this was certainly all for his sake. As he felt the moist heat closing around him and he hit the back of Italy's throat, which was already most certainly sore from crying and yelling most of the time, he found he could not hold in the brief, but audible hiss as he finally managed to find a good use for Italy's mouth.

Bracing himself by leaning one forearm against the wall, he allowed his hold on Italy's hair to slip, bringing his hand to his own mouth and with a tug of his teeth, remove the glove and spat it somewhere off to the side. Running a now bare hand across the other man's forehead and holding his unkempt hair away from his face, he looked down into Italy's eyes and realized that he was enjoying himself far too much. Suddenly, he thrust himself deeper into his mouth, smiling at the resulting muffled sounds below him. Looking down as Italy's eyes grew impossibly wider, he pulled back enough to allow the other man to breath, before setting a brutal, yet methodical pace as the other nation frantically tried to keep up as he rocked his hips, increasing the depth of each thrust until he had the man beneath him taking him in his entirety. To his astonishment, Italy managed to adjust and take him completely, lewdly taking pleasure in being dominated by the larger nation, which did not go unnoticed.

"So, Italy, you are eager to pleasure me like a professional, but are incapable of doing what I tell you to do?" Germany emphasized his point as he pulled himself out of Italy's particularly dedicated mouth and backed away suddenly, abandoning all contact and tucking himself back into his trousers, much to the other nation's surprise. Retrieving the forgotten chair, Germany maneuvered it so as to sit in it backwards while facing Italy, folding is arms across the back and resting his head upon them before continuing. "How do you intend to do that when you can not follow any of my instructions?"

When several minutes had passed with no answer, Germany rose from his seat and walked back towards Italy, lifting him into a standing position before turning him around and releasing his wrists from the white flag material. Wordlessly, he moved about the room, collecting the other nation's boxers, pants and boots and setting them in the chair before moving to lean against the door, motioning for Italy to dress himself.

Germany looked on silently as Italy, with a sudden cry of realization, flung himself at his feet, wrapping his arms around his boots, pleading. "Oh please, Germany! I don't want to go! I'll do anything, I promise." Bringing a boot to the other nation's face, he kicked Italy away.

"I'm sorry, Germany." Italy said flatly as Germany watched him from where he had been shoved back on the floor.

"Prove it." With that, Germany returned to the chair and with a broad sweep of one arm, sent Italy's belonging scattering back across the floor, bringing the chair before Italy once more and firmly resting his boot across it. "Prove to me that you can follow orders by fixing my boots you have just ruined by sobbing all over them."

Watching as the wheels in Italy's head turned, he looked on as he thought back to the lesson he gave yesterday afternoon. Having decided to go back to absolute basics, he had given a refresher course on maintaining one's uniform. As the curly, out of place strand of hair finally realized what to do, Germany rested an elbow on his knee as he leaned over his boot in the chair, smiling down at his subordinate with some satisfaction as Italy had retrieved his white flag material and improvised by using it to polish his boots, one after the other.

"Gut, now, get up und do as I tell you to do." Germany said as he backed Italy back up against a wall, none too gently before turning him around and pressing his immaculately uniformed body up against him once more and as the other man turned to glance back at him, he pressed his gloved hand against the side of his head, pinning him in place before leaning in, the brim of his hat shadowing them like an umbrella in the close space they shared.

"I knew you could not resist me, Italy."

Pressing two insistent digits against his captive's lips, he commanded him. "Get them wet."

After he took a minute to indulge his own lust, Germany gazed as Italy worked his magic with warped attention before using a knee to spread him further apart than was sure to be comfortable, before bringing the moistened fingertips to his entrance, working his pupil into a puddle and it was not long before the other nation was rocking back against his touch, desperate for more.

"Please, Germany." The Deutschlander heard the smaller nation implore.

"Please what, Italy? If you ever need something from me, all you ever have to do ist ask me und I will see to it that your needs are met, so tell me, what it ist that you need now, hmm?" Germany purred softly into the shell of his student's ear as he continued his work below as if nothing unusual were taking place. "Maybe some pasta?"

"Germany..." He heard Italy begin as he felt him writhing beneath him before he removed his hand and used it to undo his trousers once more.

With a light exhale into the other nation's ear, just enough to send another shudder of need down his spine, he attempted to coax a reply. "What ever it ist, just tell me."

"Germany, I," Came the words he gleaned between desperate pants of breath. "I need you."

"Das gut, because I need you too, Italy." In an instant, Germany crossed the border into the other nation, eliciting a mewling cry as he wrapped one arm around his waist and the other across his collarbones tightly as he bit down upon a bare shoulder, firm enough to remind the other just who was in control as he began to ruthlessly pound into him, dragging them both down onto the floor as he did so.

It was not much longer before he had Italy gushing shamelessly all over the floor and he heard his name issuing from the body beneath him.

Withdrawing himself and lifting himself up from the mess on the floor, Germany crouched down and entwined his fingers in another fist full of brunette locks, imploring his now spent friend Italy into a seated position. With a somewhat amused expression on this face, he dabbed a gloved hand into the sticky mess below and brought the fingertips to Italy's already used mouth expectantly, a command issuing from his own as he did so. "Lap it up."

As soon as Italy did so, Germany laughed at his expression, the unpleasantly bitter flavor of his fresh leather glove undoubtedly unpleasant as it was mixed with Italy's own fluids. "Let that be a lesson to you next time you make a mess of the place, I'll have you licking the site clean with your tongue if you ever make that kind of mess again."

Rising to his full height, he tugged back Italy's head by his hair and grabbed himself, stroking himself until he came flooding over the edge, pleased as the looked down at the naked, now sticky, mess beneath him, satisfied with his work.

Letting go of the other nation's hair, he tucked himself in once more, before moving to retrieve his other glove from the floor, taking his other one off and clenching them in one hand before heading towards the door yet again.

"Germany."

He turned upon hearing his name called to glance back at his favorite subordinate once more. "Yes, Italy?"

"What am I going to do now?" Italy inquired endearingly.

"Clean up your mess." Reclaiming his key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and headed out, leaving a thoroughly physically exhausted Italy behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note - I wrote this for a Hetalia Kink Meme. I received a constructive criticism that using Germany language instead of straight English was not effective. I would appreciate hearing from others if they feel this is the case as well or if some readers actually enjoy the use of German words. I intend to write additional stories involving this pairing, so if you dear readers out there favor one way over the other, because I aim to please. 
> 
>  
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> Thank you.
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> I realize that not everyone has the time to provide constructive criticism, so for those leaving kudos, I want to say thank you too, because this author greatly appreciates the feedback of their readers! <3


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